Unreal
by Yeziel Moore
Summary: Seto Kaiba didn't need magic, regardless of what Yugi, Mokuba and the hollow pain in his chest seemed to think, because magic wasn't real and that wasn't going to change.
1. Unreal

**Title:** Unreal.  
**Author:** Yeziel Moore (aka: Me)  
**Pairings:** None.  
**Warnings:** Teensy bit of angst in the background. Allusions to child abuse.  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not Yu-Gi-Oh! and certainly not Harry Potter. Pity that.  
**Words:** 824.

**AN: **Let's not interrupt the flow, yeah? So it'll be at the bottom.

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**-o0o-**

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**Un•re•a**l _/ʌnˈriəl, -ˈril/_ **adj.**

**1.** not real or actual. **2.** imaginary; fanciful; illusory; fantastic. **3.** not genuine; false; artificial.

**-o0o-**

There was not such a thing as magic.

Science was real, it was tangible, methodical and logical, but most important of all, it had rules and, as long as you followed them, you could never lose your footing with science. Magic was anything but, magic contradicted everything science stood for, therefore, in Seto's mind, magic couldn't exist.

It was a weak refusal all around and Seto was well aware of the inconsistencies his argument presented but…

He didn't care, and wasn't that a shocking thought in itself?

Seto knew what Yugi and his band of misfits thought magic was: wonderful and awe-inspiring and a great adventure waiting for the right time to manifest. And who knows, maybe it was, for them. For Seto it was none of that. Magic to him was harsh words shouted his way, smacks (or worse) on his head or rump and a dark cupboard too small for a dog never mind a growing boy. Magic robbed him of his parents and took away any love his remaining family may've had for him. In short, magic had ruined his childhood and may yet ruin his adulthood and he had no intention on indulging the capricious thing, not even to acknowledge its existence.

Of course, he was aware that his rather vehement denial and continued refusal was not the best approach to the situation, it could be seen as childish even, but some lessons stuck and stayed with you for good, no matter how long ago they were learnt. It was the first lesson Seto received, before he got himself to Japan, even before he had a name he could call his own. One very simple lesson, driven into his very being with blood, pain and tears.

It went something along these lines: Magic is not real. Dragons and princesses and castles are fantasy. Fantasy is not allowed. Imagination is not allowed. (Your) Happiness is not allowed. He was a nuisance and a Freak and he would keep his freakishness locked and far away from the family or there would be CONSEQUENCES.

There were more, of course. Seto could probably fill an entire book with all the things that were wrong with him according to his relatives and all the things that he hadn't been allowed to think about much less do in the time BEFORE. Lucky for him, most of them didn't hold weight in his mind anymore.

(Because Seto wasn't an idiot, quite the contrary in fact, and so as soon as he knew what abuse and conditioning were he took steps to fix the damage done to him. And he did a damn good job too, if he said so himself)

But there was one point, one single line, that had sunk so deep into his psyche it couldn't be pried off, not by his own efforts and certainly not by anybody else's.

Magic is NOT real.

Oh, don't mistake him. Seto knew that wasn't entirely right. He had seen real magic, he had it himself, could feel it curl under his skin like the warmest laziest cat in the world, he could reach for it and use it if he wanted to, had consciously done so once before, to change his appearance. Seto knew all of that, knew it with all the weight and credence empirical evidence provides. And although believing often came after (or even before) knowing, in this unique case Seto couldn't bring himself to believe. What for everybody else would be an unmistakable feat of magic, to him it would always be something else, holograms, hallucinations, illusions, a mental disorder of some sort, anything BUT what his heart and soul already knew _and_ believed, had known all along.

The nameless boy had learnt his lesson well. As a consequence Seto had been born, built out of logic and rationale and firmly rooted in science. Science could be measured and explained, magic (and people) could not; science was normal, unlike magic (and most people); but best of all, science had never hurt him, not like magic (_and_ people) had. Now Seto was a businessman, but before that, even before he had gotten a little brother and Kaiba had been added to his name, he had strived to understand all science could offer.

And in the end, what did he need magic for? If he wanted a dragon he could damn well build himself a dragon, which he did, by the way. He didn't need the real thing, the real thing would try to kill or eat him as soon as it saw him, so really magic was severely overrated, in his not so humble opinion.

Seto Kaiba didn't need magic, regardless of what Yugi, Mokuba and the hollow pain in his chest seemed to think, because magic wasn't real and that wasn't going to change.

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**-o0o-**

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**The real AN:** This came to me after re-reading King's Jackal by esama, which is a must in your to-read lists if you haven't read it yet. After reading, my mind fixated on Seto Kaiba, for reasons only my mind is privy to. I had no plan. But Kaiba's vehement denials of everything and anything magic related always amused me (back in my yugioh days) and I'm a sucker for turning Harry into just about every character under the sky and beyond. And just like that this idea bloomed.

Unfortunately I remember very little of Yugioh and I don't think I can do it justice. So this little baby will remain little and short for now (or ever).


	2. Orphan

**Disclaimer:** Nope! Still not mine. Terribly unfair, that.  
**Words:** 2541.

**Summary:** In which Seto is a cunning little bastard and sometimes the answers we found are not the ones we want.

**AN:** Okay, now _this_ is a chapter. I realize that the previous chapter 2 was more along the lines of me vomiting my ideas in a semi-orderly fashion and in no way a real chapter. There is little of the previous chapter 2 here except for the general tone of the chapter, you know, orphans. I hope you guys like it better! :3

**~o0o~**

**or•phan**_/ˈɔrfən/_ **n.**

**1. a. **a child whose parents are dead. **b. **a child who has been deprived of parental care and has not been adopted. **2.** one that lacks support, supervision or care. **3.** a person or thing that is without protective affiliation, sponsorship, etc.

**~o0o~**

Seto has been an orphan for as long as he remembered. He couldn't recall how it happened, but it hadn't been a car crash, of that he was certain. It had been… worse, somehow. He didn't know how he knew that but… well, traumatic events tended to leave scars. Some were visible, like the one on his forehead, others couldn't be seen at all, but he could feel them and they told a very different story from the pathetic lie his relatives had tried to feed him.

Whatever had happened to his biological parents, however they had died, the result remained the same, he had been left behind, unwanted and alone, and he had the horrible feeling that's how he would remain for a very long time.

But he hadn't known that back when his parents died. He had been small, scared and had wanted nothing but a hug, a few comforting words, a show of love, anything. And for a while he had held the hope that the Dursleys would become his new family, that once they got over the surprise of finding a child on their doorstep they would grow to accept him, love him even. Instead the surprise turned into disgust and then dislike and, after a couple of years of living together, he started to see the beginnings of true hatred in their eyes. It scared him, Vernon in particular, but more than anything, it hurt, their rejection was painful like no other wound he remembered getting.

He was young then, three years old probably, maybe closer to four. That was when he learnt of pain that wasn't physical, of wounds no bandage could cover and no medicine could heal. He couldn't read nor count but even then he could learn, and that was to be his first lesson: hope was cruel, probably the cruellest feeling of all. Because crushed hope was the worst kind of pain.

Like with everything he saw or heard he was quick to grasp it, and he swore to himself that he would always remember that pain so that he wouldn't fall for any other stupid illusion. And he did, he remembered, but there were a few occasions in which he managed to forget that knowledge, or not forget but ignore. Like when Gozaburo adopted him and Mokuba. It had been obvious from the beginning that the man was in the orphanage because he wanted an heir, _only_ an heir. Just looking at him you knew he wasn't fatherly and he definitely wasn't looking for a son. Why had he let himself hope then? _What_ had he hoped for in the first place? A father? A family maybe? Or perhaps just an adult in whom he could confide and trust. It didn't matter, because whatever he had hoped for hadn't happened. His chess game had won him the right to add Kaiba to the name he had given himself and a future as an influential and very rich man. No more, no less.

Seto still didn't have a family outside Mokuba. And some days he still woke up waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Moki to decide that he wasn't good enough to be his big brother, for Gozaburo to change his mind, for everything to vanish in wisps of smoke.

And now, two years later, the sting of disappointment in his chest was telling him in no uncertain terms that he had forgotten. Again.

Seto was twelve, they were in the middle of November, and he had finally managed to persuade Gozaburo that letting him study his (new) country history and traditions in depth was worth the time he'd have to invest to do it. Seto had always been good at convincing people but this time it had taken him weeks of careful planning and a long overly-elaborate argument just to get a grunt of agreement from the man. Luckily for him, Kaiba was a businessman first and foremost. The man knew perfectly well how necessary it was to know exactly where you stood all the time, in relation to other people but also things like where they hailed from and everything that came from that. No sense in stepping on the wrong toes after all, if you were to insult someone it better be on purpose and not because of ignorance.

At least that what he said and Gozaburo seemed to agree, despite the barely hidden and somewhat cruel amusement in his eyes. _Business is war_, he had said thoughtfully, _and in war you have to know the terrain as well as your enemy's strengths and weaknesses. Very well, you have my permission and I'll be expecting a report of at least a hundred pages by the end of the week._

So here he was, on a chilly Sunday and the last day of his allotted week, standing in front of the steps leading up to a small family shrine in Tokyo, with something like apprehension but closer to fear constricting his chest. The shrine had a bit of a reputation for being genuine (yeah, of course) but little fame despite this. He preferred it that way, no need to attract attention to himself in some overpopulated place if his questions raised the wrong flags. After another minute passed in silence Seto realized he was stalling. He frowned, angry at himself for what he perceived as cowardice. Marshalling his courage and blanking his face of emotion he turned towards his chauffer, spy for his father, bodyguard and all around babysitter.

"Wait here," he ordered in the most convincing imitation of his Gozaburo's imperious tone he could make.

The man faltered for a second at the tone and looked as if he was to complain.

"It's a shrine," Seto punctuated slowly. "What do you expect will happen to me in a shrine? The only dangerous things here are the steps and I'll hardly ley you carry me. That and ghosts," he added mockingly, just to see the man pale. Seto snorted internally. Figures he got saddled with a superstitious moron. "Wait here, is that clear?"

His guard nodded, pale faced. Seto considered not laughing at him publicly his good deed of the day.

No matter how ridiculous he thought the business that brought him here was, this was his first time visiting a shrine since arriving to Japan, so Seto climbed the steps slowly and took his time to appreciate the vibrant nature around him. It was such a strange sight, he had almost forgotten how it felt to be surrounded by trees and birds and insects. England hadn't been overly green either, but he had certainly seen more trees in the streets and parks in the neighbourhood while living there than in all his time in Japan. It was one of the nicest things he remembered from his country of origin.

As he moved forwards he felt how some of the tension coiled tightly in his body bled away, and for the first time since his adoption he felt himself relax, if only a bit. He didn't know if it was the nature surrounding him or what, but he was grateful regardless.

Half an hour later all feelings of gratefulness had fled and the tension had returned with a vengeance. He had in his hands a thin booklet, given to him by the miko in charge of the shrine, a beautiful woman of traditional Japanese heritage except for her eyes, which were a deep blue. She was dressed in the traditional red and white clothes of a miko and was happily prattling away about classes or some such. He wasn't sure. All he could see were those two words printed in the paper of the little innocuous booklet that had basically described to him just how fucked up the Magical Side of Japan was. And how much he didn't want to be a part of it. Not that he had wanted that before but now…

He glared at the booklet a little more, wishing it would catch fire, before turning sharp eyes to the miko, who was now watching him with an oddly solemn look on her pretty face.

"I don't have time for this," Seto announced coolly. "I only want to know how to stop the accidents, nothing more, so just give me a book or something and I'll take care of the rest."

The miko frowned at him, probably because of his tone, but acquiesced to his 'request' easily enough. When she returned she had with her a heavy tome able to put to shame any of his more comprehensives encyclopaedias and two thinner books no wider that his little finger. She would lend him the books, she said, but only if he promised something in return.

"What?" Seto asked warily. Never agree to anything until you knew exactly what you were agreeing to, his father voice resounded in his head.

"Bring them back personally."

Seto blinked, now even more wary. "Why?"

Her answer surprised him and he suspected it would haunt him a long time.

"You are powerful, Seto Kaiba," the miko had said in a soothing voice that belied the sadness, worry and something else in her eyes, something sharp. "But it's not your power that interests me. There is a Dark presence in you, hidden from my eyes by your fake appearance, but not from my Sight." Then she raised a calloused hand and pointed towards his forehead, almost but not quite touching the place where his lightning bolt scar would have been in his original form. At this Seto recoiled almost violently. "Come back, Seto Kaiba. We have much to discuss."

After those words Seto nearly ran from her presence and down the long line of steps, spooked and worried in equal measure after that.

"Let's go," he ordered as soon as he reached the car. The chauffer shot him a worried look. "Now," he bit out and added a glare for good measure.

"Of course, sir." Once they were seated and a comfortably distance from the shrine and the weird miko his bodyguard rolled down the dark glass separating them and asked: "Back to Domino, sir?"

"Yes."

Only when the glass was up once more did Seto dare to take a closer look to the books the miko had lent him. Somewhat unsurprisingly the humongous one was a history book, a very comprehensive history book on Japan, magical and non-magical, starting from the creation of the magical clans, including everything known about the Spirit World, touching every subject possible, every important event, and up to their non-involvement in WWII and the non-consequences that followed. For them.

Of the other two, one was a book on meditation and relaxation techniques, which supposedly would help centre him and help settle his magic. The other didn't have a tittle, but after leafing through it became clear to him that it was a manual on the more practical side of magic, including a list of simple but useful spells and actions that could be taken to conceal the existence of magic itself from people not in the know.

The last one was the abused booklet that basically summed up the other three as a way of introduction. He opened it in the last page he had read. Those two words jumped at him again, renewing the anger that barely concealed the hurt they caused.

'Magical orphan'.

That was what he, and every other child born of normal parents, was called by the magical side. Well, the human half of the magical side, the spiritual half could care less about lineages and blood and most things that human considered important. He didn't know why those words had caused such a reaction, he could take a guess, of course, but that implied that he wasn't over the fact that he was an orphan, that he had no family besides Mokuba, not really. He had been an orphan his whole life, any time before that was a mystery to him, he shouldn't be upset about this anymore. But it seemed that some part of him still hoped and wanted a family, a real one, like the ones he had spied on in his childhood, when he was trying to understand what family meant. Before he knew what he was missing out, before it hurt too much to be an outsider looking in.

And now he was an orphan again, this time in the Magical Side, just because he had no clan.

Seto scowled and stuffed the booklet into his backpack, damaging the thing as much as possible. So the Magical Side didn't want him? Fine! He was Seto Kaiba, he was going to inherit Kaiba Corp one day, and he didn't need the bigoted opinion of the peanut-gallery! He was going to study these books until he could recite them in his sleep forwards and backwards, then he would lean how to control the energy crackling under his skin and he would do it on his own terms. The magical clans, the weird miko and all the Magical Side could go suck on something unpleasant, he didn't care.

Four months later three books were sent to the Higurashi shrine via mailman, the only addition being a short and angry 'Thank you' written on the back of a blank business card. The package was received by one of the children, a boy of eleven that was being fostered on the shrine to learn control of his magic. Right now there were six other children of varying ages living in the shrine for the same reason, because nobody in their families had magic or knew how to help.

"Kagome-san, Kagome-san!***** The mail-person brought this!"

"It's called mailman, Yukito-kun*****," Kagome corrected gently, taking the burden from him. "Thank you."

"Hai!" The silver-haired boy agreed cheerfully before running off towards his friend, a rather stoic boy who stood apart from the other children, content with watching over them. "Touya,***** come on Tou~ya, let's join in!"

Kagome had to supress a snicker at the exasperated but gentle expression on the taller boy face, who let his friend manhandle him away from his quiet spot and into the chaos that was the yard. Shaking her head in amusement the miko turned his attention to the package, a heavy feeling settling in her heart. She was unable to feel who it was from because of the many energy signatures clinging to it, but the business card was a big clue, and as soon as she tore open the brown paper she had her suspicions confirmed.

"Oh, Kaiba-kun," she sighed.

She hoped the boy would change his mind, but she knew in her heart that it would be a long time before she saw him again. She could only pray for his wellbeing now. And hope that he would be able to find a light to illuminate his way, least he got even more lost in the future.

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**~o0o~**

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*****Kagome Higurashi is the one from InuYasha, yes. She may reappear but won't play an important role. Yukito and Touya were borrowed from Card Captor Sakura. And no, it's not important. It's just me having fun instead of inventing OCs.


End file.
